


100 Words

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: Tumblr Stuff [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100 words, But Not Much, Coda, Dean Being Dean, Drabble, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm a big fan of the 100 word drabble format. It's just the right length for one thought or story twist and it challenges the writer to get to the point. On the other hand it leaves enough room to play with format and language. It's a great exercise imo.</p>
<p>These are some of my drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 100 word drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a big fan of the 100 word drabble format. It's just the right length for one thought or story twist and it challenges the writer to get to the point. On the other hand it leaves enough room to play with format and language. It's a great exercise imo.
> 
> These are some of my drabbles.

# Guarding (drabble #1)

Angels can’t see their own future. They are soldiers, but knowing they will lose something as precious as their life – they would abuse their powers, abandon their posts.

Castiel sits in the dark, a few feet away from a sleeping form. He roams the planes of existence, while his vessel stays behind by the warm body next to him. He should put an end to this, stop his heart from pounding recklessly whenever Dean stares at his lips. “Cas”, Dean murmurs in his sleep. It’s true, Castiel cannot see his future. And for a while now, he can’t see Dean’s.

 

* * *

 

# 11x14 (drabble #2)

This is pathetic. He doesn’t sob. His hands don’t shake. It’s like his body just shuts down, making it impossible for him to move. He should fight. He should find answers.

He should.

Instead he’s staring at a void, for hours, losing time losing the ground beneath him losing his mind.

He isn’t supposed to mourn like this. A hunter isn’t supposed to mourn like this. Not when he felt only white hot rage at the death of his father. Not when he adjusted to losing nearly every single person he ever cared about.

Not when Cas isn’t even dead.

 

* * *

 

# Losing (drabble #3)

Things Dean Winchester only says with his body:

_Please never leave me again. I nearly broke the last time and I don’t know how to carry on without you._

_Please don’t hurt me. It’s so hard to let my guard down and behind my cracking armor I’m nothing but an open wound._

_Please be gentle. Give me a break from blood and war and destiny and show me what I’m fighting for._

_Please make me forget. What I did, what is demanded of me, all my regrets._

Please.

_Because I only feel like myself when I’m totally lost in you._

 

* * *

 

# Nothing (drabble #4)

Don’t tell me my soul is a shining star.

It’s an animal that lives under rocks with skin so thin you can see its intestines, the blood vessels thick with unsaid words and wrong decisions, eyes like puddles of mud congealed and misted by my hate and losses, a creature bred and born in the dark to hunt and rip apart fresh meat.

If I would show it in broad daylight people would cast their gazes down, pretend they didn’t see, disgusted, repelled, alienated.

My soul is nothing like your grace, you see, it’s nothing like your light, it’s nothing.

 

* * *

# Blowjob Poetry (drabble #5)

I love it when you gag around my cock, Dean Winchester.   
  
Mossy green eyes blazing defiance,  
  
this is not a man who knows how his story ends,  
  
who doesn’t want to be saved.  
  
My hands claws in your hair, your hands claws at my hips.  
  
Tears streaming down your cheeks, fighting to make your body comply.  
  
Take it,  
  
take my love,  
  
my promise of forever.  
  
All our blood-stained roads led to this raw conjunction of our flesh.  
  
When I fuck myself into your mouth, my love,  
  
your sinful lips stretched tight,  
  
there’s no more reason not to trust in God.

 

 

* * *

# Point of View (drabble #10)

Our first kiss was at a graveyard. I rescued you from an angry spirit and saw the “to hell with waiting” in your eyes, just before you grabbed my shirt and smashed your lips to mine.

The first time I came by your hand was quick and dirty, in the hallway at the bunker. Neither of us said a word.

When we finally fucked I forgot how to breathe, and relearned it when I screamed your name.

You want to know when I fell in love with you? Right after we met in hell and you started to change everything.

 

* * *

# The Hug (drabble #13)

When his head sinks onto Cas’ shoulder, it’s purgatory all over again, it’s finding him on the porch of a stranger’s house – all those moments he was sure to have lost his buddy, his pal  – who is he kidding… But this time it’s different. Because this embrace will not end with a clap on the shoulder, a distant “I’m glad you’re here, man” and some bullshit about Cas being an ally and an asset. When he lifts his head, he will make sure that Cas knows exactly what he means to him and never questions it again.

Any second now

 

* * *

# Three Words (drabble #14)

Dean Winchester doesn’t say “I love you”. Castiel learned that early on. The rules are complicated and he needs time to understand them, but eventually he gets it.

1\. Do anything to save the ones you love even if they don’t agree with your strategy.

2\. Remain calm and distant whenever your loved one breaks down to grant him some dignity.

3\. Convey your feelings with looks and actions, never with words.

4\. Only get physically close to people who aren’t posing any danger to your heart.

5\. Whenever you burn with the desire to: Don’t touch. Don’t ever touch.

 

* * *

# Being Weak (drabble #15)

Dean feels small and young and overwhelmed in Castiel’s presence. An unknown feeling tightening his chest, older than respect, deeper than desire.

Castiel is ancient and vast and incomprehensible.

A soldier, leading armies thousands of years before Dean was born.

Dean, who had to be the strong one since Sammy was six months old in his arms in front of a burning home.

Dean, who can’t allow the slightest crack in his walls because they often seem like the last foundation for the world around him.

Dean, when he stares at the millennia in Castiel’s eyes, dreams of being weak.

 

* * *

# Dreaming (drabble #16)

Castiel was always fascinated by sleep and dreams. Being unconscious but experiencing things nonetheless – the prospect was terrifying and intriguing at the same time. When he first became human he dreamt of blood and screams and something precious slipping through his fingertips even though he tried so hard to hold on to it. Sitting in the dark with sweat drenching his clothes, he listened to his pounding heart for hours. When he slept again, he dreamed of skin and moans and running his fingertips over the one he wanted to hold on to. Castiel awoke.

  
This was even more frightening.

 

* * *

# Romeo & Juliet (drabble #18)

“Dean, what is the greatest love story in human history?”

“See, there’s this guy, Romeo, and he digs this girl, Juliet. Their families have this kind of war, and both their fathers wouldn’t be happy with them falling in love. But they do, rules be damned. They’ve got this plan in place to get out of the mess their families made. Juliet dies, but not really, she will come back. There’s a lot of miscommunication. Anyway, they both die. I guess, bottom line, is that they don’t want to live without each other, you know?”

Cas smiles softly. “Yes, I know.”

* * *

* * *

 

Find me on [tumblr](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/).


	2. season 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started doing these again a while back and will try to do so more often.

**paint it black (13x01)**

 

A small splinter, painted wood, sticks in the wound on the third knuckle of his right hand.  
  
He pokes at it. New blood wells up over the blue and the brown and drowns them for a while. The blood is black in the dim light of his room. His bedside lamp throws a contorted reflection on the round shape. The drop grows, and with it the bright spot, until it’s bursting, and red runs down between his fingers.  
  
A burning swig from the bottle, left-handed.  
  
He pokes the splinter again. Not to feel it sting. Just to shroud those colors.

 

* * *

 

**the road to hell is paved with my love for you (13x14)**

 

„You almost killed him.“ Dean watches as Cas sits down at the table. Three free chairs. Cas chooses the one closest to Dean. That’s who Cas is.  
  
“Am I not allowed to protect the people I love? Is that a right only you have?”  
  
Dean cringes under the words, all of them, but one in particular. His fingers twitch with the familiar urge to reach out. He makes a fist instead, says nothing. That’s who Dean is.  
  
“He almost killed you.” A verdict. Nothing to discuss. Nothing to forgive. The _I can’t lose you_ goes unsaid. That’s who they are.

 

* * *

 

 **side by side** (13x20)

 _Heaven is dying_ , Cas says, and Gabriel looks up from where he poked at his wounds.

 _Michael will destroy the world and heaven is dying_. Cas is still a fledgling compared to himself, but he sounds unfathomably old.

 _And yet, you are here_ , Gabriel bites, a tone of wonder sneaking in, unwanted, beside the snark. He lifts his uninjured arm and sweeps it through the stale air of the bunker. _Still by his side. Father made you to care, not to follow them._

 _He made us to love._ Cas stands, straightens his coat, a lost cause. _And you’re here, too._


End file.
